After the Iratze (Lady Midnight)
by NephilimRunes
Summary: This is an Emma Carstairs / Julian Blackthorn fanfic. It begins immediately after the Lady Midnight except from the Shadowhunter Academy miniseries. Emma is in love with her parabatai, who she cannot love according to Clave law. I don't own the characters or the Shadowhunting world, they are Cassandra Clare's!
1. Chapter 1 - After the Iratze

**After the Iratze**

This is an Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn fanfic. This story picks up right after the excerpt from Lady Midnight in the Shadowhunter Academy miniseries (because I couldn't bear for it to be over!). Everything belongs to Cassandra Clare.

"Oh," she said softly. The rune seemed lit from within by a soft glow.

Emma stared at the _iratze_ as it emanated a faint white light. Unlike the others, which had faded almost immediately into Julian's smooth skin, this one seemed to stay, pulsing softly but not diminishing. A glimmer of hope rose in her heart, calming the sea of panic and fear. She waited; making sure the rune would take effect. She had never seen Marks glow like this before.

Still staring, mesmerized by the rune, she let out a breath she had not known she was holding. She became aware than Julian was still holding her against him with his hand on her back; that they were still in this awkwardly intimate position as she straddled his lap. Color began to flood her cheeks again. They were already flushed from the panic of a few moments before, but this was a different sensation.

"Emma?"

Julian's voice broke her out of her reverie, and she glanced up from his chest to meet his eyes, which were gazing at her with something like wonder.

"Jules," she whispered, "are you okay?" She hardly dared believe that the _iratze_ had worked. His injuries had been so severe, the wound from the arrow a fountain of blood. And yet, he no longer seemed to be in pain. He gazed up at her with eyes so full of emotion. She did not want him to move, to break all the tenuous points of contact between them now. She knew she shouldn't care about touching him, but he was so precious to her, and she had almost lost him.

"I'm…I… It doesn't even hurt anymore, Em. How did you…?" His voice trained off as he looked down to the rune that stretched across his muscled chest. He was a wreck, covered in blood and scars. But the ragged hole left by the arrow was already stitching shut.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I guess you were right, about the power of runes given by _parabatai_. I was just thinking about you, remembering things, and the stele started moving and I… I think I was in a trance or something."

Julian smiled and began to move his hand from her back. She let out a soft sigh, absurdly disappointed at the removal of his warm touch. But rather than releasing her, he moved both of his arms to encircle her, pulling her even closer to him and hugging her to his chest. Her knees were now digging into the back door of the car, her chest, covered only in her thin white, blood-soaked tank top was crushed to Julian's. It should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. Being in Julian's embrace was the most comfortable thing in the world.

"You did it, Emma. You fixed me. I told you so!" He chuckled, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Normally, Emma would have laughed with him, but right now she just couldn't. His laughter was like a trigger, and all her emotions started pouring out. Before she knew what was happening, she realized that her body was shaking with sobs, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and down into Julian's hair. She clutched at him, one arm cradling the back of his neck and the other wound into his thick brown curls.

"Shhh, it's okay now," he said, reaching a hand up to stroke her hair, which had fallen partially out of its braid at some point during all the commotion.

"I'm sorry," she replied, embarrassed to be crying. She was Emma Carstairs, the best Shadowhunter in the world (except for maybe Jace Herondale), and she was supposed to be tough. She hardly ever cried.

Julian pushed her softly away from him until they were facing each other. Gently, he reached his hands up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing away her tears.

"I'm okay now, really." His tone was soothing, reassuring, the way he had always spoken to her when something was wrong. It was the way he had spoken to her after her parents had died, during those months when the grief struck her and she felt like she couldn't breathe. It was a voice full of love and understanding, which was fitting because there was nobody else who really loved and understood Emma besides Julian.

Words began to pour out of her as she looked into those eyes that she trusted, eyes full of life, which she had never been so grateful for until this moment. "I thought I was really going to lose you, Julian… I've never been so scared. Never. Not when my parents died and I felt so alone. Not when I met Jonathan Morgenstern and thought he would kill me. Not in Idris during the battle. Ever since we became _parabatai_ I don't think I've been afraid once, until tonight…". She paused, choking up again as a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She took a deep breath. "It would… destroy me to lose you, Jules."

"Emma, I know, I'm so sorry for scaring you." Julian was good at comforting people. He understood emotions so much better than she ever had. "I don't know what happens exactly when we die, but I know I don't want to go anywhere without you. I was scared too… of having to leave you." His pointer finger traced the path of her last tear, lingering at the corner of her mouth. Was it just thinking about being parted from his _parabatai_ that made his expression look so pained, or was something else there too? Something almost like… longing? _Stop_. _I'm imagining things. He doesn't- he can't feel that way about me._

"I love you, Jules." It was strange how she could say this and feel that she was being totally honest and totally deceptive at the same time. It was the truth. They had said those words to one another many times before, though not for a while. But he could never know what she really meant when she said them now.

"I love you too, Em." He smiled. She angled her face down so he wouldn't see the pain clouding her brown eyes. The words were like a knife to the heart.

*What do you think? This is my first fanfic… I'll write more if people like it!


	2. Chapter 2 - Sleepless Night

**Sleepless Night**

The Los Angeles Institute was quiet at night. Too quiet, Emma thought. She could hear the sounds of the ocean as she lay in bed; trying in vain to get some much needed sleep. She shuddered, remembering her parents and how the ocean had taken them. Well, the ocean and the demons. But she still hated the stupid ocean. Frustrated, she turned over and pressed her pillow over her head, clamping down over her ears. It helped with the noise, but there was no way she could actually sleep like this.

She thought about calling Cameron, but then checked the time on her phone. 3:47 am. Probably not the best time to call. Besides, she didn't want to talk to him about why she couldn't sleep. It wasn't something she liked to talk about, and he would want an explanation.

Julian wouldn't need an explanation. He had been there, had been the only person grounding Emma to reality during that awful time five years ago. She was grateful. She had needed Julian then, and she needed him now. They had decided to become _parabatai_ so they would not have to be separated after they were both orphaned. Without him, she would have gone crazy. But now that she was bonded to him for life, she could never be with him…

She felt bad, sometimes, for thinking these things. She was with Cameron, so why could she not stop herself from thinking about Julian? Was it some masochistic part of her that wanted to be in pain? Did she enjoy the torture of loving the only boy she could never be allowed to love? She didn't think so. Loving Jules was just a part of her, and no matter how hard she tried to suppress that truth, it always came up to the surface.

Knowing it was the only way she was going to get any sleep, Emma got up and snuck through the hallway to Julian's door. Not bothering to knock, she cracked the door open and peeked inside. Her _parabatai_ was curled up in bed, facing the window on the opposite wall. Assuming he was asleep, she slipped inside as quietly as possible and shut the door behind her.

"Emma."

It wasn't a question. Julian didn't even bother turning around. He knew it was her. Sometimes Emma wondered if all _parabatai_ were like that, able to sense the nearness of one another. She liked to think they were especially in tune with each other, superior to other Shadowhunter pairs.

"Sorry. I thought you were asleep." There was no sheepishness in her voice. This was simply a part of their relationship. If one was in need, the other was there to help. If it happened to be in the middle of the night, so be it.

"I was, but you stepped on that floorboard outside Tavvy's room."

Emma grinned. Jules had always been a light sleeper.

"Ah, sorry."

"Well, climb on in." He rolled over, facing her and scooting backward to make space for her in the bed. She was no stranger to sharing a bed with her parabatai, but she hoped her body wouldn't betray her feelings by doing something embarrassing like blushing or trying to cuddle with him in her sleep.

She got under the covers and lay facing Julian, trying to arrange her long blonde hair so it wouldn't bother either of them.

"You know you should really consider cutting that off," Julian noted with a smirk. "It gets in the way a lot."

She sighed in exasperation. "How many times do we have to go through this! Girls shouldn't have to sacrifice their femininity to be warriors. I intend to be badass and beautiful, like Isabelle Lightwood, thank you very much!"

"You already are."

Julian seemed to realize what he had said a second too late. Both of them blushed, Julian taking his eyes off Emma and staring at his hands. He started picking off little flecks of blue, grey, and green paint from his fingers. He must have been painting the ocean earlier that evening, she thought.

"Um… thanks…" She didn't know what else to say. Julian thought she was beautiful? He had never commented on her appearance before. He was probably just trying to be complimentary. She decided to change the subject.

"Were you painting the ocean today?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," said Julian, looking up from his paint-stained fingers to Emma's face. "Observant as always."

"Well, I was already thinking about it. The ocean." Her eyes clouded over.

"I thought it might keep you up tonight. There's a full moon so the tides are stronger than usual." There was concern etched into the lines of his face. Just one look into those blue-green eyes was enough to let her know how much he wanted to protect her. She loved this about Jules. How deeply he cared for the ones he loved. How he knew what would upset her before she even knew herself.

"Thanks," she whispered. She reached out to take his hand in hers. She felt herself relax as his elegant artist's fingers interlaced with her own.

"For what?"

"For being you, obviously." Emma grinned at him in the moonlight, then closed her eyes. It didn't take long for her to start drifting off.

"Thanks for being you, too, Emma."

The whispered words were the last thing she heard, and she could have sworn she felt a soft pressure, the touch of lips against the back of her hand.

Emma fell asleep smiling, content for the moment just to be near the one person who mattered most in her world.


	3. Chapter 3 - Training

_Clang!_ The sharp sound of metal on metal rang through the training room as Julian's sword sailed through the air, knocked from his hand by Cortana. He ducked and rolled as his _parabatai_ thrust the blade down again in a long arc towards him.

Julian had been training with Emma for two hours, ever since she had woken him up by rolling over onto him in her sleep, and this was the first time she had disarmed him. This put him in a pretty good mood, because Emma was a lot better with a sword than he was. They had been joking and teasing each other the whole morning, each trying to get the other to mess up.

"Hey!" He shouted indignantly as he dodged the strike. "Be careful with that! We already know it can cut through gear! You trying to kill me!?"

"Yes, Julian, I want you to die," Emma said sarcastically.

"Well, geez, you don't have to be so blunt about it." His eyes were sparkling. "My own _parabatai_ , trying to murder me." He put his hand to his chest in a theatrical gesture of shock. He loved the times when Emma joked with him. She had seemed different lately, more somber. He could see a pain in her eyes sometimes, and he didn't know what it was.

It hurt that she was keeping something from him, but he didn't feel like he could ask about it. For one she seemed to really be trying to hide it from him, and he wanted to respect her privacy. Maybe it was about her boyfriend or something, and she just didn't feel comfortable talking to him about that. _If that's what it is, I don't want her to tell me_ , he thought. Because there was another reason he couldn't be mad at her for keeping secrets. He was keeping one too.

"Too soon, Jules."

"Huh?" Julian looked up. He had been lost in thought for a moment, and Emma was no longer joking around. "What's too soon?"

"Joking about your death... I just can't handle that yet. It's only been a week..." There it was again, that sad, pained look in her eyes. He just wanted to make it go away.

"Oh, come on, Em. I'm fine now! Good as new, thanks to you." He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them and lightly resting his hand on her shoulder. "Do we have to think about that?"

She turned her gaze away from him and started muttering. "...You're the one who brought up Cortana cutting through gear..."

She was right, of course. Last week when he had been injured by an arrow, she had had to cut off his gear with her favorite blade. Unbidden, a flush of color rose in his cheeks at the memory, and his heart began to race. This particular memory shouldn't make his feel this way. It should make him somber too, considering he had almost died. But the fear and the pain were not the things he remembered most vividly. When he thought about that night, he remembered Emma. He remembered how she looked when she took off her sweater and was wearing only a tank top. The fact that it was stained red with his blood didn't make it look any less amazing on her. Even in the midst of his agony, his heart had stuttered at the sight of her leaning over him, her golden hair falling from its braid onto her runed skin. And when she had shifted, straddling him to get into position to draw the _iratze_... He had let out an involuntary gasp, then. She had asked if she was hurting him. Of course, she wouldn't understand... She would probably be appalled if she knew what he had really been feeling. He was so afraid that she would guess how he felt after that night. After all, he hadn't exactly hidden his feelings when she'd drawn the rune... He hadn't been able to control himself in that moment. His hand had slid down, feeling the curve of her back and settling in the arch, pressing her against him. 'Don't stop,' he had pleaded involuntarily as her fingers raced over his chest, drawing the rune that had inexplicably worked when all the others had not. He had felt so close to her in that moment, so intimate... _Stop. I have to stop thinking about this._

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." He nonchalantly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a gesture he didn't even have to think about. He had been doing it since they were about 5 years old. So... why was she blushing now? Did she know, somehow, what he had just been thinking about?

There was too much tension between them. He had to do something. He sprang forward, grabbing both of her shoulders and tackling her. It had been a few days since they had practiced hand-to-hand combat without weaponry, and he thought some fighting would put them back into a comfortable routine. The problem was that Emma had lightning-fast reflexes, so by the time they actually hit the ground she had twisted their bodies so that she now pinned him to the floor. She grinned wickedly down at him, clearly proud of herself.

 _Well that backfired_ , he thought. He had been trying to ease the tension between them, but he now felt like his body was on fire in all the places she was touching. Her hands clamped firmly on his biceps, her knees on the floor, pressing in against his thighs, her abdomen just barely touching his. He couldn't take it anymore. He pushed her roughly off of him, got up and starting walking away toward the door of the training room. He could feel his hands shaking and his entire face flushed and burning.

"Jules! Where are you going?!" Emma shouted at his retreating back from the floor where she had landed.

"I can't be around you right now! I'm going crazy!" He shouted without thinking and stormed out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4 - Nonversation

He felt her coming before he heard her footsteps. Emma. His _parabatai_.  
He felt a mixture of anticipation and dread as she approached his door.

Knock, Knock. Julian's heart sank. She never knocked on his door. She had never felt the need to do so. But he understood. He had walked away from her, yelled at her, told her he couldn't be around her. He was the worst _parabatai_ ever.

"Come in," he said, sounding worn out and defeated. He was sitting on the bed, head in his hands, feeling terrible. He was supposed to protect Emma, like he protected his family. But now he had hurt her and he couldn't even tell her why.

Emma slowly opened the door and walked toward him, stopping a few feet away. The distance between them was palpable. They never fought, not about anything important anyway. It made him so sad that she didn't want to come any closer. He was going to ruin everything between them if he wasn't careful.

"Jules, whatever I did, I'm so sorry..."

She sounded so earnest. He looked up at her and saw on her face the confusion and hurt he had caused.

"You didn't do anything," he said softly, turning his face back down toward the floor.

"That can't be true, though. I obviously made you upset. Please tell me what's wrong. I want to fix it." She walked forward as she spoke, hesitantly placing a hand on his head and stroking his curls.

"It's nothing."

Emma sat down next to him on the bed, and her index finger began to trace letters into his arm. T-E-L-L-M-E. She waited, then after a minute added P-L-E-A-S-E.

He could feel his resolve beginning to crack. It felt so wrong to be lying to her. If he wasn't honest about this, would they lose their friendship? But if he was honest, they might lose everything. His head hurt.

"I can't, Em." His voice broke.

"But, why?"

"It's better for you not to know, Emma. Just trust me."

"No, trust me!" Her voice was strained. "Whatever it is, Julian, it hurts me more not to know."

He said nothing, and eventually she left him alone with his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5 - Confession

Emma couldn't sleep. She couldn't breathe. She hadn't spoken more than a few perfunctory words to Julian in the past three days, and it made her so angry!

When Emma was upset, her attitude became nothing short of scathing to everyone in a 50 yard radius. This meant that although the Blackthorn children and other members of the Los Angeles Institute had picked up on the tension between her and Julian, they had not dared to bring it up. She had been awful to everyone, making fun of Tavvy and Dru in training, pushing Ty to the floor when he didn't get out of her way in time, even making slurs against Mark and Helen for being part fey. She had only spoken to Julian on patrol, and said nothing then besides "hello," and "goodbye." She was a hothead, but everyone had to cool down sometime. Tonight, lying in bed, she was cooling down.

It was just past midnight. She wondered if Julian was sleeping. She couldn't go see him now, not when things were so strained between them.

Absentmindedly, she stroked the lines of the _parabatai_ rune under her left collarbone. She remembered the certainty and determination in Julian's sea green eyes as he had slowly, meticulously marked her as a part of him, committing never to be parted from her. _The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me._

What had made him turn away from her? She had been agonizing over this question for days, and there was only one explanation. Julian, who had always been so perceptive, must have figured out that she had feelings for him. In the training room that day, she had blushed when he touched her and lingered on top of him when they fell to the floor. He must have understood it then. She wondered if he knew it was love, or if he thought she was just sexually attracted to him. _I don't know which would be worse_ , she thought to herself as she turned restlessly on her mattress.

 _I guess I could tell him I just feel attracted to him. That would be embarrassing, but at least not illegal. Anything is better than this._

Feeling suddenly resolved, she threw off her covers and rose from the bed. She opened the door and stepped out into the moonlit corridor. To her surprise, there was already someone in it.

"Julian," she whispered in surprise.

"Oh, hi... I was just going to see if you were awake. I guess you are." He grasped the back of his neck with one hand, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Um, yeah. Sure."

She closed the door behind them and turned to face him. He had sat down timidly on the very edge of the bed, as though not sure whether he should be there.

"Listen, Julian. I know why you're upset." She sighed.

"You do?"

"Yeah. And I'm sorry. I can't control everything I feel. I'm so embarrassed that you figured it out, but I'm gonna try not to let it affect our friendship, okay?" She felt her face burning as she stood in front of her best friend, feeling absurdly vulnerable.

"Wait, what? You can't control how you feel about what?"

"About you," she said softly, her blush now spreading to the top of her ears.

"You... How do you feel about me?"

"Please don't make me spell it out, Jules. I'm so sorry. I won't act on my feelings, I swear. Please can you just forgive me so we can go back to the way we were before? I can't stand this, not talking to you." There were tears brimming now, threatening to spill over.

Julian stood up and looked directly at her. There was something strange about the look in his eyes. She tried to turn away, but he grabbed her chin and made her face him.

"I can't stand it either Emma, but no I will not forgive you, and we cannot go back to how we were before."

Emma thought she might faint. He didn't want to be friends anymore? She had heard of _parabatai_ who became estranged from each other, and had never understood how Nephilim could abandon their bonds. She wanted to say a million things, but only one word escaped.

"Why...?"

"Because I love you, you idiot."

And suddenly Julian's arms were wrapped around her and he had closed the distance between their bodies by pulling her close. She only had time for one gasp of surprise before his lips met hers. Emma had been kissed before; had done a lot of things before, but she had never felt like this. Kissing Julian was a sensation that was entirely new and wildly invigorating. He kissed her as if she belonged to him and without her he would not be whole; as if she were the only source of light in a world of darkness. There was hunger and passion, balanced by unparalleled tenderness. She marveled in the thrill of discovery. His lips were so familiar to her, yet she had not known that they were warm and soft, and that they could move with such gentle urgency against hers. She was hyper aware of his touch as one hand slid up her shirt and pressed into her back, while the other moved up the nape of her neck, burying those long slender fingers in her hair.

She moaned softly into his kisses as he stepped back, leaning backwards and lowering them both down onto the bed.

 _My bed. With Julian. Wait. We have to talk about this._ If they kept going, they might not be able to stop. She already didn't want to stop. Panic raced through her veins and she broke apart from him, breathing raggedly.

"Jules we can't just... We have to figure this out."

"Yeah, you're probably right," he replied, grinning sheepishly.

Emma rolled over so they were next to each other, propped up on their elbows. "I can't believe that just happened."

"You're not mad about it though, right?" Julian looked a little nervous.

"No, of course not! But, what exactly did you mean...?"

"I love you, Emma." His gaze was hard and steady. "Not just as my parabatai. I didn't think I would ever be able to tell you, but I do. How do you feel about me?"

"I love you too. I was trying to make it seem like I just felt attracted to you, but I've known for awhile now that it's more than that... It doesn't solve anything though, Jules. We can't be together." Her voice dropped to a whisper her last sentence, because it was painful to say it.

"It does solve something, Em. We've cleared the air between us, and that's worth everything to me."

He grabbed her hand reassuringly. She knew in her mind that they were in an impossible position. But in her heart she could only feel happy, because Julian loved her.


	6. Chapter 6 - Nightmare

Julian's eyes opened and he sat bolt upright in bed. His breathing was heavy and sweat covered his brow. It had started off as a good dream... a great dream really. He'd been dreaming of Emma, his subconscious mind replaying and reinventing the scene that had taken place between them two nights earlier. His mind had been wandering back to those moments in his waking hours as well. For so long he had wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to taste her, and now he finally knew what it felt like. The memory was intoxicating, filling his mind and turning everything else into a blur.

Unlike those memories, this dream had changed, had morphed into a nightmare straight from the fires of Edom. He had been kissing Emma on the floor of the training room when Uncle Arthur had barged suddenly through the door. His expression upon finding them in such a compromising position had been one of utmost revulsion. He had begun shouting at them about breaking Clave law, dishonoring the proud order of the Nephilim, and bringing shame upon the Blackthorn household. He had brought them before the Council in Idris and a verdict had been passed upon them: "For this most grievous breach of the law I, Colsul Penhallow, together with the majority vote of this Coucil, sentence you both to be stripped of your Marks and released into the mundane world." They had tried to protest, to plead for mercy, but the only response had been "Sed lex, dura lex." _The Law is hard, but it is the Law_. Emma had turned to him then and met his gaze. While his expression had been full of pain and sorrow, her eyes held nothing but loathing and contempt. "I hate you, Julian," she had spat at him, voice full of venom. "I will never forgive you for doing this to me!" He had watched then as she was dragged, kicking and screaming, from the Council Hall, away from him forever...

 _No_! He kicked his blankets off his bed and rose to open his bedroom window. The cool night air seemed to calm the storm of his thoughts. _Emma doesn't hate me_ , he thought to himself. _She loves me. We are bound by the oath and beyond it. She wouldn't say those things to me... Would she?_ Needles of doubt crept into his mind. Emma was a great Shadowhunter already, and she was only seventeen. She not only loved being Nephilim, she _needed_ to be what she was. Since she was twelve, she had lived with one purpose: to be the best warrior possible so that she could avenge her parents' murders. She was truly an avenging angel, and if that life were taken away from her, wouldn't she be bound to hate the one who had torn it from her? _Yes. She would hate me if she were stripped of her Marks. I would hate myself, for doing that to her. I can't - I won't do that to her._

He made a silent vow to himself. He would sacrifice anything so that she could be her true self. If that meant sacrificing his own happiness, it was worth it. Protecting her was the most important thing in the world. He knew she might protest - Emma was not what you would call a rule-follower. She might try to find a way to have everything - to be with him and be an outstanding Shadowhunter. He would have to convince her that nothing was worth the risk of losing their Marks. Convince her that being _parabatai_ was enough. And if he could not convince her... well, then he would just have to hold his ground and refuse to be with her. _Sed lex, dura lex_.


	7. Chapter 7 - Kidnap

Julian may have had a nightmare, but Emma was living one.

She had been jolted suddenly from sleep by the suffocating feeling of a cloth being roughly shoved into her mouth. Her captors were cloaked, hidden and mysterious. As one had tied the gag around her head, the other had bound her hands. Within a few seconds, they had bound her feet as well and swept her from the room, leaping from the window and landing impossibly lightly on the hard earth outside. The gag must have been soaked in chloroform, because she had passed out before they exited the grounds of the Los Angeles Institute. Now she was locked in a pitch-black room, the dimensions of which she had no way to know. The cloth had been removed from her face, but she was now bound to a hard and uncomfortable metal chair.

The longer she sat, the angrier Emma became. Her captors must want something from her, so why on Earth weren't they checking up on her? It had to have been at least two hours since she had woken up.

"Hello?" she yelled. "Anybody there? Come on, you stupid f***ers, show yourselves!" She writhed her hands, trying to free her wrists from the ropes that bound her, but to no avail. She stretched and strained, but all the knots held. She let out a scream of frustration. She couldn't believe she had allowed herself to be kidnapped. _Stupid. I'm so stupid! Why wasn't I more alert?_

She felt naked without her gear, without Cortana. The only thing she had on her was her stele, which had still been in the inside pocket of her jacket when she'd fallen asleep, exhausted from patrol duty with Christina. Just a few hours ago, they had taken on a couple of Eidolon demons who had been causing quite the stir in a downtown LA club. Luckily they'd managed to kill them, banishing them back to the demon realms, before any mundanes had been murdered. It was strange to think that so recently she had been laughing and joking with her best girlfriend as they wiped ichor from their blades, walking back to the Institute exhausted but high from the thrill of combat.

Usually Emma felt so tough, so invulnerable. Never one to be modest, she knew herself to be among the most technically skilled Shadowhunters alive in the world today. She was fast, clever, and adept at the use of all manner of weapons, especially in the use of her short-sword, her Cortana. Now she had none of that. Being skilled with weaponry was of no use when you were tied to a chair. Even if she could get to her stele, runes had never been her forte. _Although there was that iratze, with Julian..._

Julian. Her heart skipped a beat. Julian would know there was something wrong. He would probably sense she was not at the Institute the minute he woke up, before anyone else could notice. She wished beyond anything that she could get a message to him. As much as she felt empowered by the presence of her weapons, Julian's presence was even more strengthening. The oath that bound them made them stronger, heightened their senses and allowed them to fight in perfect unison. She missed him now more than ever. Emma was not used to feeing helpless, but she needed her _parabatai_ to be her strength now.

"Hello Emma." A cold, crisp voice broke the silence, and an unfamiliar figure appeared through a doorway in front of her. Emma was nearly blinded by the bright light streaming through the opening. _So it must be morning already_ , she thought to herself. She didn't know how long she had been passed out, and she wanted to mark the passage of time as well as possible.

The figure came into the room, approaching her with a slow, deliberate pace. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw that he was quite beautiful. Young, dark-skinned, but with eyes the color of a robin's egg. But the features that stuck out most to her, the ones that made her realize just how bad her situation was, were the pointed ears sticking out from his dark curls. This man was fey. And she was in deep trouble.

"Emma Carstairs," said the fairie. "It has come to the attention of the Wild Hunt that you and your...friends...are hunting one of our members. According to the intelligence we have received, it seems that you fancy yourselves a rescue party. What have you to say to this?"

Emma stayed silent. She knew it was necessary to be extremely careful when speaking to faeries. She wished she were like Julian. He was so much better with words than she was. Maybe that's why they had chosen to kidnap her: the impetuous one, the overconfident one, the impulsive one, rather than the one who always kept a cool head under pressure.

She decided to stall, rather than give a real answer. "I cannot say what my friends think, can I? I am not all-knowing, and can therefore only speak for myself."

The Huntsman smiled a little, as if amused by her attempt to delay the inevitable. "Perhaps you would rather have this discussion with someone a little more... familiar to you." He gestured toward the door, and another slim male figure entered. He had white-blonde hair and mismatched eyes-one blue and one gold. Physically, he looked exactly the same as he had the last time Emma had seen him. He seemed not to have aged a day in the past five years. But the look in his eyes was different from anything she remembered. It was cold, distant, aloof, and disdainful. He came to a stop only a foot in front of her chair, gazing down at her as if she were an enemy. It was so different from how he had always looked at her, and it hurt.

Her mind was assaulted by a barrage of memories. His eyes sparkling with amusement and exasperation when she and Jules had decided to paint the walls of the training room one day back at the Blackthorn manor. The concerned and affectionate way he had held her when she had broken her arm practicing her falls. The teasing glances he had given her five years ago, when he must have known she had a crush on him. The way his eyes had pleaded with her to go, to run, to save the others when Jonathan Morgenstern had taken him from his home, from his family. That boy had loved her, had always treated her as if she were another sister to him. But this was not the boy she had known.

Her voice caught in her chest as she breathed his name, a whisper of uncertainty and pain. "Mark."


	8. Chapter 8 - Secret Message

Something was wrong. Julian could feel it in his chest, a tension in the invisible rope that bound him to Emma.

He'd known it as soon as he woke up, later than usual because of the nightmare that had interrupted his sleep. It was 9:15. Emma always woke him up for training by nine, if not earlier. He had rushed to her room and pushed the door violently open, already suspecting that she wouldn't be there. She felt distant, as if the bond between them had been stretched out like a rubber band. Still unwilling to accept it, he'd raced downstairs to the kitchen where his younger siblings and Cristina sat around the breakfast table eating cereal.

He watched them now, yawning lazily and chatting with one another, not knowing that Emma was almost certainly in danger. Panic rose in his chest as he scanned the room again, checking to make sure he had not glanced over her. She wasn't there. His _parabatai_ was missing.

"Has anyone seen Emma?" He heard the tone of desperate panic in his own voice. All talk ceased as the other children of the Institute turned toward him.

"No," said Dru, the first to speak. "You guys?" The word 'no' echoed around the room, and the dread in Julian's heart seemed to solidify.

"Something's wrong," he said, and his hand involuntarily rose to his bare chest to cover his _parabatai_ rune. Looking down, he realized he hadn't even gotten dressed. He was only wearing the old Lakers basketball shorts he usually slept in. Normally he might have been embarrassed for Cristina to see him like this, but not now. He had zero consideration for modesty right now.

"Dios mio," said Cristina, rising from her seat and stepping toward him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What is it Julian? Is Emma ok? Is she hurt? Did I miss something last night? Maybe one of those Eidolon demons got her with something poisonous, and I missed it..." She grabbed her medallion with her left hand, as she always did when she was really worried. It was one of the only ways anyone could ever tell when Cristina got upset, because she was always so calm and levelheaded.

"No, it's not that..." Julian hesitated. "She's alive, and I don't think she's physically hurt. But something feels wrong. She's not here for one thing, and I can feel the distance. And I think she's...scared." The emotion had been hard to put his finger on, because Emma was almost never afraid. She had told him just over a week ago, when she had broken down in the back of the car after healing him, that she had not been afraid since they had become _parabatai_ until that night. Whatever was scaring her now, it must be bad.

"Emma, scared?" Livvy piped up from the table. "You sure she's not just angry?"

"She's angry too, I definitely feel that. But this is bad, you guys. I don't know what to do. I don't know where she is or how to reach her. Uncle Arthur's not here and we have to find her!" His voice rose at the end, sounding alien to him. He was not usually one to panic. But this was Emma, and he didn't even know what was going on, so how was he supposed to help her? A voice in the back of his mind seemed to speak. _You can't protect her. Just like you couldn't protect your parents, or Mark. You're useless, and Emma would be better off without you as a_ parabatai _._

Ty, Livvy, Dru, and Tavvy went to go search the Institute for any clues to where Emma might have been taken, or who might have taken her. Julian just stayed where he was, standing with his hand on his chest, trying to escape from the maddening accusations that clouded his mind. After a few minutes, he realized Cristina was speaking to him.

"Julian? Julian? Jules!" She slapped him lightly on the face to bring him back to reality. "What's going on in your head?" She sounded annoyed, like maybe she thought he was formulating a plan and she wanted to be included.

"Nothing," he said shakily. "I was just thinking about how useless I am as a _parabatai_. I can't protect her."

She slapped him again, this time with a little more vigor. "Shut up, Julian, and snap out of it!" Her voice was strict and firm, like a scolding teacher. It was harsh, but not unkind. Cristina was good at that kind of thing. As the eldest child of the Institute, she had looked after the younger Blackthorn children along with Julian and Emma. Despite the fact that they hadn't known her as long, the Blackthorns respected and listened to her. Now Julian was benefitting from her down-to-earth authoritative manner as well. He raised his head to look at her, silently pleading for her to continue talking sense into him.

Her eyes softened as she continued in a more gentle tone. "¿Estas loco? You are crazy if you think you're useless to Emma. She needs you, Julian. You two are the most closely bonded _parabatai_ I've ever seen. You're so in-sync it's like you communicate telepathically or something." She smiled encouragingly.

"Well, not telepathically..." he shrugged and allowed himself a small smile, thinking about how he and Emma had learned long ago to communicate without speaking aloud. Almost as soon as they had learned to read, they'd learned to trace letters onto one another in order to talk. It was like their own secret language, something that only the two of them shared.

 _That's it!_ In an instant, Julian was bolting down the corridor toward the training room. He flung the doors open with all his strength and took a mad dash toward the wall of weapons. Selecting a knife at random, he began to carve into the flesh on the under side of his left forearm. Blood rolled from his skin and poured into the floor. There were jagged lines marring the smooth skin that seconds ago had been unmarked. His eyes burned and blurred from the pain, but he smiled at the wounds he had inflicted upon himself.

Cristina, who had followed him, screamed as she saw him standing over a pool of his own blood, which was still pulsing out of him, streaming in rivulets across his mutilated arm. She stepped toward him, looking horrified, reaching out to take the dagger. Then she looked down at his wounds from above, and understanding dawned on her face.

"Oh!" she gasped, one hand flying to cover her mouth and the other to clutch her medallion.

The jagged lines had not been carved at random. They were a message. A message that only Julian and Emma would be able to understand, not only because they each could feel what the other felt, but because they had trained for this for years. For any other pair of _parabatai_ , this type of injury would have felt like senseless pain. But Emma would recognize the pattern; recognize the letters that Julian had written on his flesh, written in his blood. A-R-E-Y-O-U-O-K-?

Julian met Cristina's gaze, which held a mixture of shock, horror, and admiration. Ever practical, she quickly composed herself and spoke in that reassuring, businesslike tone. "But how will you know if she responds? You'll feel your own pain too much to sense anything she writes back, won't you?"

"I need an _iratze_ ," Julian admitted.

Cristina swiftly pulled her stele from the pocket of her dark jeans and drew a careful, precise healing rune just above the crux of his elbow. The blood stopped flowing, the grooves of open flesh began to shrink, and his skin began knitting itself back together. Within a minute all pain was gone and the skin looked pink, but firm and healthy.

They waited, both of them holding their breath, hoping against hope.

Then Julian winced in pain and clutched his forearm. It was not really his arm that was hurting, but Emma's. He stood concentrating for a moment, reading the message in the invisible lines of pain. _Thank the Angel, she's writing back._ He sighed in relief.

When he looked up, he saw Cristina peering at him expectantly. She was practically bouncing on the tips of her toes in anticipation.

"Oh," he said with a smirk, "Did you want to know what she said?"

And he flinched away too late as Cristina's hand came up to slap him yet again. _Three might be a record for one day. At least I deserved that one._


	9. Chapter 9 - Trapped

Emma had been wondering, before Mark walked in, how the fey had managed to gain entry into the Institute. Only a Shadowhunter could open the doors. _But they had a Shadowhunter._ She could hardly bear the knowledge that Mark had willingly allowed members of the Wild Hunt to enter the Institute and kidnap her. The betrayal felt like a vice grip on her heart.

She glanced away from the eldest Blackthorn boy as he began to speak, not wanting him to read the hurt in her eyes. His tone was brisk, formal and cold. "The Wild Hunt has no wish to be pestered by Nephilim children, and no desire to release one of its members. I am a Huntsman, and that is all I shall ever be. My ties to the Blackthorn family are severed. I have remained sentimental enough only to request that it be you, Emma, who we kidnap and kill, rather than one who shares my blood."

Her pulse quickened, heart pumping it seemed with increased vitality in the face of death. She couldn't believe these words were coming from someone she had trusted and loved as her own family. Nevertheless, she spoke clearly through her rage and fear. "If you plan to kill me, why didn't you just do it when you broke into my bedroom at the Institute?" _It would have been so much simpler_.

His laugh was high and biting, and utterly foreign to her. It was the sort of laugh guaranteed to send chills down the spine. "And allow the Clave to think we had broken the Cold Peace without reason? Breaking into the consecrated ground of an Institute and murdering Nephilim in cold blood... I don't believe Consul Penhallow would react very well to that, do you? The fey would be back at war with the Nephilim within days if not hours."

"But you suppose that if you kill me elsewhere, the Clave will be more forgiving?"

"In a manner of speaking." He sounded like one of the fey, hiding the truth behind ambiguous statements.

"What does that mean?!" She shouted in frustration.

"It means simply that your death will be put into perspective when the Clave finds out that you have been secretly chasing after the Wild Hunt, searching to abduct one of its members. I belong to the Hunt, and that cannot be changed. The Clave may be angry at us, but they will be more enraged that you and your friends, my half-siblings, have been disobeying orders for half a decade. Your death will serve as an example of what happens to foolish children who disrespect Clave law." He paused, his lips quirking up into a smile that would have been beautiful were it not for the dead look in his eyes. "What is it they are so fond of saying? _Sed lex, dura lex_."

Emma's mind was still reeling from shock. _Mark wants me dead. All this time we have been trying to find him, to save him, and he wants me dead._ Her thoughts were churning around in a circle. She couldn't see a way out of this. _He is right about the Clave. They will view my death as fitting punishment for my disobedience. How ironic that the one we were breaking the law to save is the one bringing us down._

She had been leaning her head back on the hard back of the chair, but a sudden pain made her lift her head to stare at her forearm in the dark. It was a reflex reaction, pointless really because she couldn't see anything. But she could feel something. The sharp stinging kiss of a blade glanced up and down in thin lines over her left forearm. She knew this kind of pain. She had felt it last week in the back of the car as she sat there covered in Julian's blood. She'd felt it two months ago when she'd accidentally cut him with a misericord during a training exercise. She'd felt it when he'd been bitten by a Dravak demon and they'd had to call a Silent Brother to heal him from the poison. She had sat at his bedside all night, not sleeping, just holding his hand and willing him to get better. She had always known when her _parabatai_ was in pain, just as he felt it when she was.

The sensation of feeling Julian's pain was familiar to her, but there was something else about this that was familiar as well. She could feel the cuts as they were formed, see the outlines of the shapes they made in her mind. She gasped. _He's writing! By the Angel, Julian, you're a genius!_ She smiled as she pictured the letters: "A-R-E-Y-O-U-O-K-?"

With renewed vigor, Emma reapplied herself to working out the knots binding her hands. She found the one she had worked hardest on loosening before, and was able to get it undone, which freed her hands from one another. She withdrew her stele from her jacket pocket. It was not a blade, but the end that was not used to mark runes was sharp enough to draw blood. It would have to do. She flipped the stele upside down and began to dig into her own left forearm.

Slowly, painstakingly she carved: "Y-E-S." She didn't want him to worry that she was dying, so she went with good news first. Then after a few more seconds, she added: "T-R-A-P-P-E-D."

She turned the stele over again to hold it the normal way, and gave herself an _iratze_. She preferred Julian's healing runes to her own. There was something so beautiful about the marks he drew. She thought his artistic talent made his marks more powerful than others, but maybe that was only because they were _parabatai_ and his marks really were more powerful to her than those drawn by herself or others.

"B-Y-W-H-O-?" The reply came soon after she had applied the healing rune.

She hesitated. Part of her just wanted to wait a minute to give him time to heal, but another part of her didn't want to tell him. It would hurt him to know that Mark had been a part of this. Still, she believed that the truth was generally preferable to lies.

"M-A-R-K."


	10. Chapter 10 - Found

Just a moment ago, Julian's face had been flushed with color, fevered with the excitement of communicating with Emma. Now it was blanched pale. An aching sensation had taken hold of his chest, and he felt suddenly so fragile, like he might break apart at any moment. _How could it be true? Mark loves us. He doesn't want to be a part of the Wild Hunt. He wouldn't hurt Emma._

He had always assumed, over these last five years, that Mark would remain unchanged in his loyalty. He had always looked up to Mark, imitated his graceful, effortless fighting style, respected him for bearing runes that hurt him more than others because of his faerie blood, envied the way he drew people's attention (well, mostly Emma's attention). Mark couldn't be their enemy. He trusted his brother.

 _But... Emma wouldn't lie. Not to me, not about something important._ It was time to make a choice: trust Mark or trust Emma. He sighed, heart heavy. It was hardly even a choice. For Julian, the answer would always be Emma.

Pulling himself up from the dark ocean of his thoughts, he looked up to see Cristina's face peering down at him with no small amount of concern.

"What's wrong? Please tell me," she pleaded.

And he told her.

Ten minutes later, the children of the LA Institute were gathered around Julian in the training room. He clutched a small silver compass nervously in his right hand. The compass had an inner compartment that contained a few strands of Marks' hair, and Magnus Bane had enchanted it years ago, as a favor, to point towards its subject at all times when he was in this world. If Mark was in Faerie, it just pointed due North all the time. But right now it was pointing southwest, down toward the Pacific coast.

After a bit of convincing, everyone was shocked but willing to believe Emma. They planned to track Mark to wherever the Wild Hunt had Emma imprisoned. Julian had told her they were coming, and she'd told him to hurry. He didn't want to waste any time.

"Dru, you stay here with Tavvy. Everybody else, it's your choice whether you want to come with me."

"But I'm thirteen! I'm old enough to come! I'm—" Dru protested.

"YOU. WILL. STAY. HERE." The icy glare Julian shot at her was enough to silence her argument. She pouted and turned away, but did not speak out again. It was rare for him to be so harsh, so she must have known he meant it.

"I'm in!" Cristina broke the silence.

"Me too," piped up Livvy, looking toward her twin brother. Ty nodded his affirmation and took Livvy's hand.

 _What an impressive group we are. An eighteen year old, a seventeen year old, and two fifteen year olds. The Wild Hunt might as well give up now._ Self-doubt was creeping into Julian's head, but he shook it off. _No. I need to be positive. We can do this. We are trained Shadowhunters. And...Emma needs us. Emma needs me. Emma...please be ok._

Cristina drove them down the coast, with Julian providing directions from the compass. At one point they had to stop for a few minutes because Julian was doubled over, screaming in pain that was not his own. None of them wanted to think about what that meant, but Cristina drove faster from that point on. Finally they reached a rocky outcropping that jutted out into a bay. The needle waspointing directly outward. _Mark is here, and Raziel, please let Emma be here too._

The four young Shadowhunters made their way stealthily along the rocky ledges, guided by Julian's hand signals as he watched the needle of the compass. Suddenly, he held up a hand, motioning them to stop. As they listened carefully, they could hear voices coming from a cave up ahead. _That must be the Hunters._ Where was Emma? She had written to describe her surroundings ("dark room, one door"), and after a moment he spotted such a place. A door sank into a cave wall just fifty feet from the mouth of the cave in which the Hunters were gathered.

Julian told the others to look out and be ready to back him up, then sank low to the ground and began to make his way toward the door. It was midday now, and he felt very visible in the bright sunlight. _Please don't look this way,_ he silently begged the Hunters.

By some miracle, he reached the door without being seen. He used a rune to unlock it and slipped inside. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out a witchlight stone. As it illuminated the room, he let out a gasp of horror. Emma was slumped over on the floor, her right arm bent in in an unnatural angle. Blood caked her blonde hair and her clothes were torn almost to shreds. She had clearly been beaten, and brutally. Julian crouched at her side and turned her over, cradling her head on his lap. His hands flew frantically around her neck, her chest, her wrists, looking for a pulse, praying for a sign of life from his best friend, his _parabatai_ , the girl he loved.

There it was, faint but steady. He felt a pulse in her neck and was flooded by a relief so sweet and powerful that he nearly burst into tears. He leaned down and tenderly kissed the place where he could feel her heartbeat, overwhelmed with gratitude for her life.

"Jules?" Her voice was a dry whisper, but he had never been so happy to hear it.

"Yeah, it's me, Em." He pushed her matted bloody hair back from her pale face, which thankfully had not sustained more than a few scratches from the beating. She looked terrible, but her eyes shone with trust. "You're going to be ok," he assured her. She passed out again.

The next twenty minutes or so were spent drawing careful healing runes on various parts of Emma's body. She was so bruised that he wasn't sure whether he'd done enough, but eventually she regained consciousness and was able to sit up, grabbing his shoulder for support.

"Took you long enough to get here," she said groggily.

Julian grinned, so happy to hear her being sarcastic again. She must be feeling better. "Well, I blame Cristina. She drives too slow."

Emma smiled and flashed her eyes toward him. Their faces were just inches apart in the dark room, lit only by the flickering witchlight. It cast waves of rippling color onto the cave walls, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of the aurora borealis. He hadn't realized how close they were until that moment. He had been holding her head on his lap before, and now she was sitting up, her hip pressed against his and her hand on his shoulder. Her smile disappeared, replaced by another expression, one less familiar to him. She was biting her lower lip lightly, eyes shifting from him to the floor and back. _Nervous. She's feeling nervous._ Butterflies rose in his stomach as he gazed at her. _Emma is adorable when she's nervous,_ he concluded inwardly. As if in a trance, he got up onto his knees and moved her arm from his shoulder. There was nothing between them now but empty air and witchlight. He leaned forward, bringing his face near enough to hers that he could feel her breath on his cheek.

He hesitated. _I'm not supposed to do this. I told myself I wouldn't do this._

But then Emma was kissing him. She had only moved an inch, just enough to bring her lips up to touch his. She tasted like salt and blood, but also like Emma. Her lips were soft and urgent, moving against his in a tender caress. His body responded immediately. Gently, he pushed her down to the ground, hands gripping her shoulders. He moved so that his knees were on either side of her, pressed into the bare skin of her legs through her shredded jeans. He could feel every breath she took; feel her ribcage lifting to press her chest up against him. He groaned in agonized pleasure. _There is nothing, nothing in the world that feels like this_. His hips began to sway, moving backward and forward, and his breath hitched in his throat when she began to mirror his motion, rolling her hips with his. Blood was pounding through his veins, building to an unstoppable tide. Her hands raked down his back, fingernails scratching along the leather of his gear. She bit his lip and he moaned, bringing his lips crashing down on hers again, parting them with his tongue—

 _Crash!_

The cave room was suddenly flooded with light as the door burst open and the afternoon sun streamed in.


	11. Chapter 11 - Escape

The sunlight streaming into the cave was blinding. Emma struggled to sit up as Julian scrambled off her, clearly distressed that they'd been interrupted while in such a compromising position. Her lips were still stinging, swollen from his kisses.

 _Oh, crap. We could be in serious trouble._ She couldn't tell who had opened the door, but if it was someone from the Hunt they were as good as dead. And if it was one of the other Shadowhunters, well, they weren't much better off considering what they'd just been doing.

She squinted at the door, trying to shield her eyes as well as possible from the glare. A hooded silhouette came toward them and knelt down. _Well, he doesn't seem to want to kill us. That's something._

The figure removed his hood and lifted his hands in the air, palms forward like a surrender. His expression was completely different from how it had been a few hours previously. It was tender, concerned, and a little bit frantic. This was what she would have expected to see from her old friend. Mark's mismatched eyes were wide, silently pleading with them to trust him.

"Come on!" Mark's whispered voice was urgent. "We need to get you both out of here!" He glanced over his shoulder at the door, as though checking to make sure he had not been followed.

Emma was confused. Kneeling before them, he seemed so sincere, so non-threatening. Yet a few hours ago, he had appeared to be completely heartless. _Which one is the act, and which is the real Mark?_ She glared into his eyes, scrutinizing his face as though she could read the truth in it. _This looks like him, but I can't be sure._

Wordlessly, Emma turned to her _parabatai._ He looked at her questioningly, as though deferring to her judgment, knowing that he was biased when it came to his elder half-brother. She loved this aspect of Julian. He never made rash decisions, and he was not too proud to seek advice. To some, maybe this would have made him seem weak. But Emma knew that trusting another person was, in itself, an act of great courage.

 _If Mark's lying, we're definitely going to die. If he's telling the truth, we have only about a 70% chance of dying. Might as well trust him._ She nodded toward Julian, and then turned to face the eldest Blackthorn boy.

"You've got some serious explaining to do, Mark Blackthorn." Her voice was a whispered hiss.

He let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry..." His words were hesitant. "I had to be convincing. It took years to get the rest of the Wild Hunt to trust me. I can lie, so they were always suspicious... Finally I earned their trust, but if they notice I'm missing they'll come find me. I just had to get you out of here, Emma." His voice choked in desperation when he said her name.

"You could've fooled me earlier," she grumbled.

"I've spent years building my reputation here. They'll kill me when they find out I've helped you. I don't want to give it all away for nothing. Come, I'll help you escape." He motioned toward the door, but Julian tugged him back.

"There are others. Ty and Livvy, and another Shadowhunter girl named Cristina. They're waiting for us behind those boulders." He pointed in the direction of the rocky outcropping that his the other teenagers.

Mark nodded, a pensive look upon his face. "Have you any way to signal them?"

Julian pulled out his cell phone and pulled up a text conversation with Cristina. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell them to be ready to defend their position in two minutes. And tell them I'll be with you, so they don't accidentally attack me."

Two minutes later, they burst through the door at the cave opening, making a beeline for the rocks where their allies waited. Julian had drawn some runes for strength, speed, and agility on all three of them, and they were flying over the ground. They had gone nearly halfway to their destination when the arrows started flying. It was like a dance, avoiding the swift arrows of the Wild Huntsmen as they flew toward their goal, their safe haven. Cristina and Livvy were returning fire from behind the tallest boulder, keeping their pursuers at bay. Ty stood at the ready, prepared for action but unable to contribute, having only brought weapons suited for hand-to-hand combat.

"Aghhh!" A cry of anguish rang out, and Emma felt her back blaze up with pain on the right side. Not her pain. Julian was hit. _Another arrow!? That boy has the worst luck with arrows._ Without a second thought, she diverted her course away from the rocks where her friends waited. She backtracked to where Julian had stumbled and hit the ground. She grabbed his arm and threw it over her back, and the two of them began running together.

Even as they ran, she knew their situation was perilous. They were slower now, too slow. The arrows had stopped flying, which could mean only one thing. They were being pursued, and the enemy was close. _Come on Jules, run faster!_ She could hear his breath wheezing. The arrow must have punctured a lung.

With each step forward, she could hear the enemy advancing ever closer. _It's no use. We're not fast enough._ Although she could have easily made it to safely alone, not once did she consider leaving him. The thought never crossed her mind. He was her _parabatai_ , and she had promised to fight with him and for him. She did not want to die, but if death were inevitable, she would prefer to die as she had lived, always beside Julian.

A shadow passed over them, landing on the ground behind them to face the oncoming horde of Huntsmen.

" _Ithuriel!_ " Mark's voice rang out, naming a seraph blade for the first time in five years.

As they reached the shelter of the rocks, Emma laid Julian down and turned just in time to watch Mark drive the glowing blade into the chest of the leader of the onslaught, the dark-skinned faerie who had first spoken to Emma that morning. His agonized shriek tore through the air, rendering the battlefield motionless for a moment. The Huntsmen all wore identical expressions of disbelief and outrage. They had been betrayed, and now were looking at Mark with Edom's fire in their eyes.

Mark turned and ran. He was fast, especially with the help of Julian's runes, but even if he got to the boulders they would not be able to defend their position for long. They were going to be massacred.

Something landed on the ground feet in front of the enemy.

"Duck!" The voice belonged to Ty. Emma had just enough time to cover her ears and crouch down before the bomb exploded. Bits of rock and some kind of metal pelted her from above.

The small wounds inflicted by the flying debris were annoying, but Emma couldn't understand the tortured howls the Huntsmen were making. They sounded like men being burned alive.

"Blessed iron," Ty shouted, answering her unspoken question. _Good thing somebody was smart enough to bring a weapon specifically targeted against the fey. Ty might be the only one of us with any sense._

"Run!" she cried, hoisting Julian back upright. Mark joined her and the two of them half-carried him back along the point, up through the brush and into the car. She looked behind her, but there were no pursuers...yet. "Drive!" she yelled at Cristina, who had jumped into the drivers seat. She didn't need anybody to tell her to speed up this time. They flew back up the highway toward the Institute, toward safety.

In the back of the car, Emma and Livvy applied healing runes to Julian's side. The wound was not nearly as bad as the last time he'd encountered an arrow. _Thank the Angel._

Leaning across the back seat, Ty smiled at his half-brother. "Welcome back, Mark."

The words seemed to break a layer of ice over everyone. They began to laugh, relief breaking through their strained expressions. A smile and greeting from Ty was rare in any case, but to welcome Mark back so nonchalantly after going through the ordeal they'd just experienced... That was Ty for you: unpredictable, but unquestioningly devoted to his family.


	12. Chapter 12 - On the Roof

The star-strewn sky stretched across the horizon, a sparkling blanket over the city of Los Angeles. A light breeze swept from the ocean over the palm trees, causing their fronds to sway in a gentle dance. As the tide slowly receded, patches of wet sand remained glistening on the beach, reflecting shimmering light from a full moon.

 _Hm, maybe a bit darker._ Julian paused to dip his fine-bristled brush into the black paint, mixing it into the deep blue color on his palette. _That's better._ He was seated on the roof of the Institute, leaning against the outer wall of his bedroom and balancing the canvas on his bent knees. He'd been there for hours, wanting some undisturbed time as well as a chance to paint the ocean by moonlight. At the moment, he was trying to find the precise match for the color of the ocean where it met the sky in the distance. It was so dark that it could hardly be considered blue anymore. It was funny, the way most people thought about color. Anything from cerulean to periwinkle, royal to robin's egg was referred to simply as "blue." It was a shame that hardly anyone noticed the subtle differences, like the fact that Dru's and Tavvy's eyes were slightly more green than Livvy's, Helen's and his own. _And Mark's._ He forced himself to remember Mark as he had looked with two blue-green eyes, the color of the ocean shallows in the sun. He had once shared this trait with Julian, but now his eyes were marked by the Hunt that claimed him.

 _I guess it wasn't enough for them to mark him by his eyes alone,_ Julian thought bitterly. Mark had tried to hide them – the scars that laced his back and chest, crisscrossing to form a lattice. He had almost gotten away with it. The torture had been cleverly done. His tormenters had left no scars upon his countenance, nothing on his arms or legs that would have been visible while wearing clothing. But Julian had walked into Mark's room that morning to discover him lying in bed with his shirt pulled halfway up, mussed from tossing and turning in fitful sleep. Beneath the hemline of the t-shirt, on just the few inches of visible skin, he had seen the welts. And when he asked his brother about them later, Mark had told him the truth in exchange for a promise of confidentiality.

"The riders of the Wild Hunt hate Shadowhunters just as do all the fey. They believe, rightly I think, that the Clave has treated them unjustly," Mark had told him. "They punished me for my Nephilim blood, just as the Clave disowned me for my fey blood. I belong to neither. I am nothing and no one." His expression had been like nothing Julian had ever seen. He looked broken, yet stony-faced; forlorn, yet calloused. He remembered wondering: _What must he have gone though to make him this way?_

It had been two days since they'd come back from their mission to save Emma, the mission from which they had brought back Mark as well. As the Hunt no longer had Mark at their disposal, they could no longer break into the Institute, so they were safe as long as they remained inside. However, this was problematic, seeing that Shadowhunters are bound to protect humans. How could they protect humans from demon invasions if they stayed inside the Institute? They couldn't even go on their regular patrols for fear that the fey might be lying in wait for them somewhere along the route. Something needed to be done, and soon. _But what?_ Julian shook his head, knowing it was up to him to come up with a plan, what with Uncle Arthur being gone so often and rarely in his right mind even when present.

 _Knock, knock._

Julian craned his neck to look over his shoulder into at his bedroom window. Emma was there, already crawling through the opening to join him. He moved the painting from his lap so she wouldn't disturb it. His _parabatai_ had been known to accidentally destroy a piece or two of his artwork. Her long braid fell forward like a golden rope over her shoulder as she sidled up right next to him. Their shoulders were touching, and she had imitated his posture and leaned her legs to the side so that their knees touched as well. It should have been an easy, relaxed position to be in. Until recently, he had never been more relaxed than when he was around Emma. But now the slightest touch was enough to set his pulse racing. _It's ok. Just breathe. It's Emma. I'm fine._

"Hey, Jules." Emma's voice sounded startlingly small and quiet.

"Hey, Em." He paused, but there was no response. "What's up?"

"I feel like you've been avoiding me," she sighed, looking up at him with a sidelong glance. She sounded so sad, he just wanted to hold her and tell her it wasn't true. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around her. But he couldn't do that. The truth was, he _had_ been avoiding her ever since they'd gotten back from the cave. They'd come so close to being caught doing something forbidden. Mark had apparently not noticed what they had been doing when he'd opened the door of the cave, but if they kept going as they had been they were going to get caught soon. He couldn't afford to be careless.

"Maybe I am." His voice was tired.

"Well, why?" she demanded, arms crossed now, reflecting the defiance in her tone.

"I don't know, Emma." He signed in exasperation.

"Come on, Jules, tell me! We can't work well as a team if you're keeping things from me."

"You think we have been working well as a team?" The ice in his tone was reflective of his own judgment upon himself for letting Emma kiss him in the cave.

"What? ...I...of course we're a good team...you're my _parabatai_..." The shock and hurt were unmistakable in her voice.

"I wish I didn't have a _parabatai."_ He stood up, aimed a well-placed kick that launched his nearly finished painting off the roof, and slid back inside without so much as looking at Emma.


	13. Chapter 13 - Sick

"But why can't you get in touch with Magnus?" Emma whined into her iPhone, combing clammy fingers through her disheveled mess of blonde hair.

In addition to feeling cold and nauseous, at the moment Emma felt confused. She knew that her friend Clary Herondale and the other Shadowhunters of the New York Institute were on particularly good terms with the High Warlock of Brooklyn. He happened to be engaged to Alec Lightwood, who was Clary's husband's _parabatai_. She found it hard to believe that it would be so difficult for them to contact him.

"He's in Rio, with Alec," Clary explained.

"Ok, so what? They still have their phones, right? The internet exists in Rio, too, you know." She could hear the exasperation in her voice, but she couldn't help it. She just felt so awful, and she knew that if anyone could make her feel better it would be Magnus Bane.

"Um, well... no actually." The other girl's voice held a note of trepidation. "See, we summoned him back here just this past Saturday to fix some ribs Jace had broken in a fight with some rogue werewolves..."

 _That sounds like Jace,_ Emma thought, wondering idly whether or not the werewolves had been part of a pack.

"He got a little annoyed," Clary continued. "...said something about Herondales being fussy and always summoning their friends to fix them, even when they would heal perfectly fine on their own. Then he dropped his phone on the floor, stomped on it, and made himself a portal back to Rio." She sounded apologetic. "I think the intended message is that he wants to spend some uninterrupted time with Alec, for once."

"Ugh. Yeah, ok," she said. "I'll heal fine on my own too, I guess. It just would've been nice to have him speed up the process. Thanks anyway, Clary."

"Sorry I couldn't be more help. Hope you feel better soon, Em."

"Thanks, see ya."

"Bye."

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. Emma leaned back against her headboard and closed her eyes. She was so dizzy, but closing her eyes helped to keep the room from spinning.

 _I knew it was a bad idea to go on patrol with Julian._ It had been the evening after she'd tried to talk to him on the roof. That conversation had not gone well. He had told her he wished he didn't have a _parabatai_ and then stormed off, destroying a piece of his own artwork in the process. When she realized they were scheduled together for patrol duty, she'd thought about asking Cristina to trade shifts with her. But maybe some part of her had been hoping that she and Julian would resolve things that night, because she'd ended up going with him.

They had not resolved things. In fact, they had not communicated at all, which was why Emma had ended up with a demon stinger embedded into her leg. It hadn't hurt too badly on the way home, but by the middle of the night she had been in excruciating pain. They had called the Silent Brothers, who had said there was nothing to do but let the poison run its course and burn itself out. _Iratzes_ were not very useful, but she kept drawing them on herself anyway. She had just picked up her stele from the bedside table when there was a knock at her door.

"Hi, I brought you some food."

She looked toward the doorway, half-hoping to see Julian there, but it was a different Blackthorn boy.

"Thanks, Mark." She forced a smile onto her face. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy seeing him. It was just painful that Julian hadn't even come to check on her in the past thirty-six hours that she'd been sick.

Mark walked in with a tray of apples and saltine crackers, the only things she had managed to keep down over the past day and a half. He set it down on her lap, and sat next to her on the side of her bed.

"You feeling any better?" he asked gently.

"Not really, I've been puking all day, but thanks for asking." She gave a weak but genuine smile.

Frowning slightly, he lifted his hand and leaned forward to place it on her forehead. "Still feeling warm," he muttered.

This side of Mark was familiar. He seemed almost normal to her now, taking care of her as he had once done for all the younger Blackthorn children. _Only Jules and I aren't younger anymore_. He still looked sixteen, just as he had when the Wild Hunt had taken him. She and Jules were seventeen now. It was strange to look at the boy she had once seen as unattainable and now see a peer, an equal. Mark's hand was still on her forehead, his concerned eyes searching to meet hers. She found she was blushing in spite of herself.

"What are _you_ doing?" A voice came from the doorway. Julian's voice.

Emma and Mark both turned their faces to look at him. His gaze was locked on the hand his brother had just had up against her forehead. His eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed with color.

"I was just checking in on Emma," Mark said in a measured voice.

"I can do that. I'm her _parabatai_." Julian strode into the room, making an attempt at bravado, but really just looking awkward.

"Ok, bye then." Mark flashed a quick smile at her before rising from the bed and slipping past Julian out the door, leaving them alone together.

Silence hung like a thick curtain in the air between them. They hadn't been alone since the patrol. Emma gulped, trying to think of something to say, but it was hard to think of something cute when she felt like she could vomit at any second. In the end, he spoke first.

"Sorry about the sting... It's my fault." He looked down at his feet.

"Yeah, it _is_ your fault." She knew she sounded mean, but he hadn't been willing to communicate so it was totally his fault.

He looked up at her and, to her surprise, laughed.

"At least you tell it like it is, Emma." His eyes were creased at the corners with laugh lines. She realized she hadn't seen him laugh in a while; not since Mark had come back, anyway. It was good to see a smile on his face again, and to know she had put it there. She smiled involuntarily in return.

"So, are you talking to me again?" Her tone was teasing, and as she spoke she picked up a pillow and threw it at him. He caught it and threw it back in her face.

"Yes, I am. Sorry for being so..." His voice trained off.

"Moody? Idiotic? Full of teenage angst?" She smirked. _Just a few suggestions._

Julian reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, a habit of his when he was embarrassed. "Yeah, all of those things," he said sheepishly. "I just don't know what to do anymore or how to act around you... We have to figure out-"

"I know we have to figure it out, Jules," she cut him off. "But can we please not do that right now? I'm sick and I just want you with me. We've always been there for each other and I've missed you. I just... I kind of need you right now." She felt her cheeks growing warm, but she didn't mind being vulnerable like this in front of Julian. It was all true.

Any traces of hesitancy vanished from his face as he moved toward her, climbing into bed next to her. Without speaking, they rearranged their bodies to lie in the position that had been theirs since before Emma could remember. Julian lay on his back and lifted his left arm while she rolled into him, laying her head on his chest. Bringing his arm back down, he encircled her shoulders, resting his hand on the curve of her left hip. Her right arm was tucked in between her chest and his side while her left hand rested on the thin black t-shirt covering the tightly muscled cords of his abs. Finally she crossed her left knee over his, so that her foot was between his legs. It was the most comforting place in the world for Emma to be. In Julian's embrace she felt safe and whole. She nestled into him and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"Thank you," she said, finally relaxing and feeling better than she had since being stung. "For being here."

"Always," he whispered as she closed her eyes and drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	14. Chapter 14 - Dreams

Julian woke to the sound of muffled screaming in the night. Moving carefully so as not to wake his sleeping _parabatai_ , he slowly untangled his limbs from hers and climbed out of bed.

Soft moonlight poured through the crack between the curtains of Emma's bedroom window, leaving an eerie blue stripe on the dark wood floor that seemed to ripple like waves. A light breeze caressed his skin as he crossed the room and reached for the door to the hallway. _Perfect weather,_ he thought as he glanced back toward Emma's shadowy form on the bed. It was September, and the nights were finally cooling down. _Maybe tomorrow I'll see if she wants to sleep out on the roof like we used to do._

They hadn't meant to fall asleep outside. Well, not at first anyway. It had started when they were twelve, both newly orphaned. Emma hadn't been sleeping well since she had moved to the Institute, so they'd made it their mission to stay up all night. She had claimed it was because the place felt unfamiliar to her, but he had known it was more than that. He'd known that she was afraid to fall asleep because of the things she would see and hear, the scenes she would be forced to relive time and again in her dreams.

He hadn't blamed her for wanting to avoid the nightmares. After all, he'd had his fair share of experience with them as well. Over and over he had watched himself raise the blade, driving it deep into his father's chest and snuffing out his life. Each time, in the dream, he was a spectator, powerless to stop himself. Always, he awoke choking on a silent scream that seemed to be trapped in his throat.

Over the years his nightmares had become less and less frequent, slowly fading into distant memories. But Emma was still tormented by them fairly often when she slept alone. Julian was proud of the fact that she didn't get nightmares when she was with him at night. It was one of the ways in which he felt he was truly useful to his _parabatai_. She was, after all, the better Shadowhunter. More aggressive, more intuitive, and clearly a more natural fighter, she outshone him in training and in the field. But that was ok with him. _She burns bright enough for both of us_. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. As long as she needed him by her side, he was content to be the fuel that kept her burning.

He walked down the corridor toward the room from which he knew the sound had come. Stopping at the bathroom, he filled a glass with cold water and carried it to the door in question.

 _Knock, knock._

No answer.

" _Mark, it's me,"_ he hesitated. " _I'm coming in."_

His brother sat up and pushed sweaty blonde hair back from his forehead as Julian entered the room. He was wide-eyed and still breathing heavily in the aftermath of his nightmare.

"I brought you some water," he said, extending a hand to offer the glass.

Mark took it gratefully and gulped it down quickly, then set the glass down with shaky fingers on the bedside table.

"What was it tonight?"

"Gwyn, torturing me again. Whipping me, telling me it was for the best, that whenever filthy Nephilim blood was spilled, it was cause for the fey to rejoice." Mark's face twisted with pain, and Julian wasn't sure if the reaction was emotional, or a memory of something physical. He continued. "And...this one was different. After he beat me, I saw him torturing Kieran. He was accusing him of helping me escape, of betraying the Hunt..." He squeezed his eyes shut and reached up to cover them with his clenched fists.

Mark had mentioned Kieran before, and said he had been his only friend among the faeries of the Wild Hunt. He guessed that maybe there was more to their relationship, but he didn't want to make any assumptions. Mark would tell him when he was ready. At least he was opening up to him a little about what life had been like with the Hunt. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry. But it was just a dream. Everything is okay."

Slowly, Mark dropped his hands from his face and looked up at him with a haunting, sorrowful expression. "Do not be so sure, brother. The Hunt has been too quiet about my desertion. They will come. They will demand recompense. Make no mistake about it."


	15. Chapter 15 - Dance

Another week had passed with no word from the Wild Hunt. Patrols had been relatively uneventful, and the younger Blackthorn children seemed to be growing less and less worried about the fey.

This just made Emma more nervous. _Time passes differently in faerie,_ she had reminded herself daily, not wanting her alertness to falter with the passage of time. She knew Julian was worried too. She could see it in the set of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks, the tension in his shoulders. And the faint purple shadows under his bright cerulean eyes had become a semi-permanent feature over the past few weeks. Thought neither of them had openly stated their worries, they knew by unspoken glances that they were on the same page. Both watching, waiting for some form of retaliation.

It was an uncharacteristically warm night and Emma was wishing she hadn't donned her full gear to go out on patrol. She walked silently beside Julian down the dark downtown streets of LA, looking for signs of suspicious demonic or Downworld activity. Unfortunately there seemed to be nothing of interest going on. The local vampire coven and werewolf pack had recently forged an agreement, and things had been much more peaceful in Downworld since then. They knew it wouldn't last, but she had to admit it was nice not to have to break up bar fights for a while.

At the moment, though, she was so bored that she almost wished there was a fight to break up. At least it would provide some entertainment. The only thing they had to amuse then now was the sight of giddy high school students tumbling out of the double doors of a fancy-looking stone building. Four girls had stepped outside, all wearing long formal dresses and sporting glamorous hairstyles. They were all laughing as they leaned against the staircase railing to catch their breath. Two tried to use their small clutch purses to fan themselves, but they couldn't seem to get the air flowing very well.

"Must be a prom," Jules observed, and Emma nodded. They could hear upbeat music playing from inside as they approached closer, unnoticed by the mundanes because of their glamours. Involuntarily, her hand went to her hair, imagining what it would look like if it were wound into a hundred glistening curls and pinned up, rather than braided back the way she usually wore it.

"Your hair looks better than theirs anyway," Jules winked and she blushed, lowering her hand.

She wished for a heart-stopping moment that she and Julian were just a couple of normal teenagers at a dance. That they could just forget about everything there was to worry about and just enjoy being together.

 _Why can't we?_ She interrupted her own thoughts. Patrol was frustratingly boring, and they had both been so stressed lately about the fey, they needed to relax. She wanted to see Julian smile again, and see him release some of the tension he'd been carrying in every line of his body.

She turned abruptly to face her _parabatai_ , locking his eyes with her determined gaze.

"Dance with me." She held out a hand. It wasn't exactly a question, but it wasn't a command either. She held her breath, fearing for a brief moment that he might turn her down. But he gave a shy smile and placed his hand in hers.

The music blared through open windows into the courtyard outside where Julian and Emma danced. They were perfectly in sync, as if they had been taking dance lessons together all their lives. Emma supposed training and fighting were a lot like dancing. Combat exercises required the same teamwork, the same awareness of each other's movements and positions. They moved effortlessly, Julian leading her by the slightest touch, pulling her in toward himself and spinning her out away from him again. Each time she spun, she locked eyes with him so she wouldn't get dizzy. He was her anchor; he kept her grounded just as he always had in every way.

The music changed, the beat slowing dramatically. Jules pulled her in closer, until her arms were wrapped around his neck and their hips were pressed together. They swayed back and forth, taking tiny steps, no longer really dancing. His hands traced patterns into the small of her back, sending shivers up her spine. She wound one hand into his brown curls, stroking the nape of his neck and making him let out an involuntary shudder.

Their faces were so close that her head was starting to feel cloudy. She breathed him in, taking in the familiar scent of Julian. His cologne did not quite mask the odor of acrylic paint.

She leaned in slightly to whisper in his ear. "You never can quite get rid of that paint smell, huh?"

He chuckled, but it was not his normal laugh. It was low in his throat, husky. The sound sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body, all the way down to her toes. She drew back a little and looked at him as he brought a hand up to brush an escaped strand of hair out of her face. His fingers lingered on her cheekbone and she let out a breath she had not know she'd been holding.

Slowly, deliberately, Julian closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. They were still swaying in time to the music as they deepened their kiss. She parted his lips with her tongue and was gratified by the small moan that escaped him. They stopped moving with the music as Julian's kisses became more urgent. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was strong, to be able to hold her like this while kissing. She could feel his heartbeat racing in time with her own, feel the paths his hands traced as they raked down her back over her gear.

 _This can't happen,_ a small voice inside her argued. _This will only end badly._ But this voice was drowned out by another, stronger one. _I love Julian Blackthorn. I love you, Jules._  
And she spoke the last four words aloud.

"I love you too, Emma," he gasped as he rested his forehead on hers, lowering her back to the ground.

His eyes flicked up and widened. She backed away from him instinctively, drawing Cortana and looking around.

Two horses were approaching in the distance. They were too far away to make out clearly, but Emma was pretty sure they had riders. She was also pretty sure that no humans who lived in LA owned horses and took them out riding through downtown at midnight. And if the riders weren't humans, there was only one other possibility. She had never known a vampire, werewolf, or warlock to take a particular shine to horses. No, they were the typical companions of the fey. The time had come. Julian and Emma had been found by the Wild Hunt.

A/N: Yeah so not a lot of actual plot but I just LOVED the TDA snippet Cassie posted about them dancing so I had to write something similar! I think the idea of them dancing and being able to move so perfectly together is just the most adorable thing ever! Hope you enjoy!

Also, I write this story primarily on wattpad. My username there is JamieShadowhunter. Check there for updates, and to read my other TMI/TID stories!


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